Ticket to Tahiti
by KenCosgrove
Summary: Danny Moses is desperate to help his only sister Emelia to survive a terrible illness. Through a friend and a backwater connection, he gets roped into the Van der Linde gang. But like they always do, they cross one too many paths. If they thought Leviticus Cornwall was tough with the Pinkertons, Danny has trouble seeing how John D. Rockefeller will be any better...
1. Chapter 1

_SOMEWHERE NEAR THE HAZEL MINE,_

_BETWEEN WHITE HORSE AND ALLANDALE_

_WEST AUSTIN, UNITED STATES,_

_EARLY SUMMER, 1899_

It was cool, unseasonably cool, in the early summer of 1899. There was a tailwind, coming from the south that brought in soaking rain from the Galician community, through the New Mexican communities of the corn and cattle plains. The New Austin & Pacific Rail line had been finished since the mid-80s, but the rails were weakening under the constant drum of heavy trains and had to be redone in sections. Currently, work was being done on the section between Upland and Sierra Verde, where the ownership reigns were handed over to Southern Pacific.

The work in the early summer was the best work on the line. It wasn't too warm, hovering around 75 degrees in May/June, maybe one the worst of days climbing to 90. This year it stuck firm around 65. Most men on the line were farmers who couldn't farm, Indians who'd given up on the reserve, and Negros making their way. There was one failed farmhand, sleeping under a tree while the supervisor was eating in his tent. The boys on the line devised a system where they could get enough work done in a day even if one man took a two-hour break. They rotated happily each day to a new man, and today was Danny Moses' day. The workers always kept an eye on the supervisor's tent to watch for movement. Many times, the supervisor fell asleep too.

"Danny." Yelled a voice.

"Danny, Strickland's coming." The voice was running closer.

Danny roused from his sleep, looking up. The young black boy had run over the ridge of the hill and was descending quickly.

"He's only been gone a half hour." Danny replied in a low tone.

"Doesn't matter. Get your ass up the hill, now."

The boy grabbed Danny by the shirt and they ran up the side until they reached the spikes and hammers. Marshall Strickland, T&Ps man on the road, had an old watchful eye. That is, until he was bored.

"Boys, where are we?" The loud screech of Strickland's voice rang through the clanging of hammers.

"On schedule." One of the men replied. "Quarter mile a day so far."

"Very good, Mr. Bronson. Keep the pace going."

Each man on the line made $1/day _if_ they were on schedule. If they were falling behind, the pay started falling behind. Suddenly the books got lost on the wagon, or Strickland forgot that day. Payroll was late, the list of excuses grew. It was hard for men not to dream and for a dollar a day the dreams don't last long.

Danny had reached his hammer just as Strickland started talking to Bronson. He took the hammer and began nailing a spike that was already down, further into its tie. He watched Strickland's eye; He wasn't paying attention to him. He reached and grabbed another spike, throwing it down the line to one of the Indians. The man caught it, placed it, and a negro slammed it into the tie with a long sledge.

"Keep moving boys." Strickland said, turning his rotund figure around and trotting down the hill towards his tent.

The men worked on the line until the sun was setting on the distant horizon, covering the land in a burnt crimson glow. The payroll wagon had rolled up to site, and every man quickly put his tools back on the supply wagon and ran to get in line. There was 26 of them in all.

The young negro boy who warned Danny earlier that day put his arm around Danny as they began walking back towards camp.

"I think you owe me 5 cents for saving yo' ass." The boy smiled. He was no more than 21. Danny was 5 years his senior.

"How 'bout I return the favour when its your day, and even delay Strickland while he gabs to Bronson. Oh wait. I did that on Tuesday."

"Fair enough." The boy smiled. "How's your sister?" His voice went cold.

"Not good. She's been coughing more and more. Bedridden almost every day. The medicine we need is 10$ a bottle. I just don't have the cash."

"No one's got that kinda money." The boy said. The twosome walked in silence towards the small township where the railroaders were staying. The sun had crested the earth and the moonlight was beginning to brighten the sky.

"Listen, I know you weren't asking, but I know a guy."

"No. No, Obee, no. I'm not getting involved in one of your confounded schemes."

"This ain't a scheme!" The boy shouted. "You ain't gonna make that money on the rails, you need a new source of 'income'" He said, emphasizing his knowledge of the word _income._

"Listen, I'll cut back on the rations for a few weeks and I'll have enough. Emelia just needs to hold out until then. She can do it. She's strong."

"Wishful thinking, boy."

Danny turned and grabbed the young boy what remained of his shredded collar.

"You watch your mouth Obadiah Summers or I'll knock every one of those teeth out."

"Danny, calm down." The boy said, grabbing Danny's hands and throwing them from his neck. "You know what I meant."

The two men had reached the main dusty drag through the town and they were walking through the lamp-lit streets towards the saloon.

"I'm saying Emelia don't have much time, Danny. I'm giving you a way out."

They pushed through the swinging doors and went to the bar.

"Whiskey." Danny said to the tender. The man quickly placed a shot on the bar and filled it. Danny tossed the man 5 cents.

"Just a beer." Obadiah said. The tender gave him a stout brown bottle of warmish yellow liquid some consider to be beer. He drank it happily.

"I know, Obee. I know she don't have time."

There was a silence between them.

"I have a cousin. Working outta San Denee."

"Oh yeah? What's he do?"

"They do a lotta things. Depends what needs doing."

"That sounds promising." Danny muttered, drinking his shot and lighting a poorly rolled cigarette.

"I don't know exactly what they do." Obee drank his beer. "I know he's making a lot of money, enough to ride a horse and have some nicer clothes. I know he has enough to take care of things."

"There's only one kind of money that they make, Obee."

"I know, Danny. I know what kind of money it is. Why you think I'm in backwater New Austin and not in Bayou Nwa, strikin' rich?"

"You're a good man, that's why."

Both men smiled, clinking their drinking glasses together. The pair ordered a few more drinks to finish the day, swirling around drunk on cheap whiskey and beer by the end of the night. They stumbled out of the saloon close to midnight, making their way for the small encampment off the southern edge of the town where all the other workers had set up canvas tents, some no larger than a closet for sleeping in. Obadiah broke off to walk towards his small tent, and Danny turned to go to his. Inside, Danny's younger sister Emelia Moses was laid out on a canvas cot, covered in sweat. She was in a night dress and was fast asleep. Danny slept on the ground, on a Hudson's Bay blanket from Upper Canada. He leaned over to check her temperature and it was higher than normal.

"Another fever" he muttered. Things were not looking good for Emelia. Some said it was TB, others, the pox, others said it was some plague. No doctor could give a straight answer without a few dollars in hand; a few dollars more than Danny ever had. She coughed briefly, a hoarse loud cough, and then slept. She hadn't much touched the food he'd left out in the morning for her. Crackers, bread, and some canned Offal. She touched the bread only. She needed the Offal.

Danny didn't sleep well, and he hadn't since he and Emelia took ill. Every sneeze, cough, hiccup, had him worried it would be her last. Especially since she started declining quickly. Obadiah would come over frequently to help Danny look after her, but the hours on the line were long and hard. Some quit, some died. It was a losing man's game. Danny was fed up after a year of it.

The night droned on. And on. Emelia coughed occasionally and breathed heavily. Her once beautiful face was gaunt now, and she was pale. Her bright blue eyes had faded to a dull grey and even the luster in her hair was gone.

The sun started rising. Obee came to the tent shortly after the crack of dawn.

"Mornin'" He said, opening the tent and leaning in. Emelia was awake and staring at the canvas wall. She quickly slipped under the covers.

"Obee! I ain't decent." She smiled lightly.

"All the better" He laughed, sitting down beside Danny. "Get up, boy. Got work ahead of us."

Danny was silent.

"Boy! I said get up, we gotta start walkin'."

"I ain't walkin'" Danny sat up.

"Who died and gave you all the monies then?"

"I'm going to St. Denis. To meet your cousin."

"You serious?" Obadiah said, perplexed. "Just yesterday you was…"

"I know what I was saying yesterday. But that was yesterday, and today's today."

"Well shit." Obee stood. "It's gonna take a few days to get there, that's by horse."

"The train runs out of Camacho, and if I can't catch it there, I'll go to St. Martins. I know I can catch one there than runs all the way to St. Denis."

"Well… yeah I guess that works too. Still gonna take us a while."

"Us?" Danny said, putting on his coat.

"You won't last a day down in the Bayou. If the people don't get you, the crocs will. You don't even know where my cousin is."

"Then we're all going."

"I can't go." Emelia said quietly.

"We don't have a choice Em."

There was a brief silence.

"We don't have anything holding us back."

"Except money." Emelia chimed in, coughing lightly. "We live in a tent for a reason."

"I have some savings. We'll sell the tent and the cot. It'll be enough to get us to St. Denis I think. We're on our own after that." Danny started folding up his bed.

"I'll talk to people. I think they'll be some oritentals coming in on the 7:30 to help us." Obee peered outside of the tent, and then popped out quickly.

"Daniel." Emelia said. "You shouldn't do this."

"Ain't got a choice, Em." He turned to face her. "You ain't getting better. I gotta do something."

"I'm just happy here—" she coughed. "With you and Obee. I know my fate."

"Stop talkin' like that." Danny sputtered angrily. "You don't know anything about that."

"How many doctors we gotta visit before you get it through your head?" Her eyes fired up and some blue returned to them. "I'm dyin'."

There was a long silence.

"I read about a medicine you can get in the big cities—"

"Not another one of these elixirs." Emelia scoffed. "We tried that before and its all snake oil salesmen in shiny suits." She stood slowly, wrapping her blanket. "Now get. I'm getting dressed."

The sun began to rise further into the sky. Before the hour was out, Obee came trudging back to the camp, some dollars in hand.

"Sold it to the ticketmaster." Obee said, catching his breath. "The tent I mean. Long run back to camp. I also stopped by the rails and told Bronson and Strickland we wouldn't be comin' in."

"What'd he say?" Danny smiled.

Obee did his best impression of the overweight, boisterous man.

"You boys don't come in, you're fayahd!"

"And?"

"I just shrugged and walked away." Obee laughed loudly. Danny and Emelia did too.

It was a long walk to the Camacho station, almost 2 hours on foot from tent city. Emelia made slow progress behind the two boys who had now dressed in their nicest clothes which were dusty dark shirts and vests. Danny had a pair of red and black preacher boots he wore proudly, and Emelia was wearing her working pants and a frumpy grey shirt. With how thin she was, some might assume she was a young choir boy. Danny carried her in his arms for some portions as long as he could as they walked along the rail tracks past White Horse, Flatland, and finally ending up at Camacho. The train was about 20 minutes out when they arrived. Obee went to the ticketmaster about the tickets and purchased three one-ways to "San Denee" for a little under 10$. The tickets had cleaned them out lest a few dollars spare change for food. Danny forced Emelia to eat some of the bread he'd packed from their stay in tent city, and she did reluctantly. Obee gave her some salted and dried venison to eat as the train left the station.

The trip to St. Denis was uneventful. The train stopped frequently to load and unload passengers and continued without interruption past 9pm. They stopped once for water and coal in Spruce Mills and then again outside of Rosaline once they'd neared the border of the state of the Lemoyne. The train pulled into St. Denis close to midnight, 2 days after their departure from the Allendale tent city settlement. Emelia was enjoying the scenery change, and because she was forced to eat with Obee and Danny at her side, she was in better health and spirits than before. Danny was pleased with himself. He helped Emelia down from the car and they walked through the main entrance of the station and onto the electrically lit street. There were a few people walking by, especially heading towards the saloon up the main road where music was roaring through the doors.

"I know the tender at that saloon." Obee said, pointing. "He was a good friend of my families before we moved west. Jed's his name. Honest man. He'll probably know where my cousin is."

Danny nodded and loaded the rucksack with all their belongings onto his back. Obee lead the way up the road, past the newsboy, and under the shades of many new businesses.

"This town's something else." Em smiled, her eyes aglow under the electric filaments.

"Don't you go falling in love, Miss Emelia." Obee said. "The town'll swallow you whole."

"I think it has." Danny chuckled.

The threesome pushed into the bar where some lively music was keeping some people dancing on a raised platform to the right of the entrance. There were some gentlemen gathered around a poker table near the door, and some ladies looking for gentlemanly company near the pillars by the stairs. The man playing the piano forte was a negro himself, perhaps in his 30s, dressed very smartly, with a near bald head and an heir of intensity about him. A little sign sat on the piano and it said "_The Tapper from Texarkana"_ on it. He was playing a joyful tune, jumpy and exciting. Danny and Obee walked directly for the bar while Emelia broke off to go talk with the gentleman at the piano.

"Mighty fine music you're playing." She said to him as the song concluded.

"You think so, Miss?"

"Sure do." She grinned. "You are a real virtuoso."

"Virtuoso!" The man chortled. "Now that's a word. You sure have a vocabulary Miss—?"

"Emelia." She reached out to shake his hand. The man looked confused for a moment, but gladly shook her hand, looking around in case others had seen it. "Emelia Moses. I read many books"

"Of this, I have no doubt. Moses' a fine name too. Good strong biblical name."

"Thank you." She curtsied. "Your music is truly beautiful. What's that tune you played called?"

"I don't know!" He laughed. "I just wrote it a few weeks ago."

"I think it sounds like a maple leaf blowing joyfully in the wind!" Emelia fluttered her hand.

"A maple leaf hey?" The man said. "Now that's somethin'"

"Do keep playing, Mr—?"

"Folks 'round here call me Scott."

"Mr. Scott."

He smiled to her, "Thank you, Miss Moses."

_On the other side of the bar_

"Glad to see you boy!" Jed the tender shouted over the fanfare of the bar. He was in the middle of pouring a drink for a tall burly man. "What brings you all the way back to the bayou?"

"Just wantin' to see the family." Obee smiled. "This is a friend of mine, Danny Moses."

"Mr. Moses." Jed reached out, shaking Danny's outstretched hand.

"Pleasure."

Obadiah tossed a quarter onto the bar. "two whiskeys."

"it's 25 cents for one here, boy." Jed smiled. "But for ole friends. It could be two."

Obee smiled. "Listen, Jed. I'm lookin' for Lenny. You seen him?"

The tender looked around suspiciously.

"Yeah, I seen him. He came 'round here a few days ago. A few men with him. Not the kinda men you wanna fall in with, Obay."

"I know, Jed. I just need some help from him is all."

The tender leaned in, and Obee and Danny followed suit.

"They staying out by the Shady Belle, that ole run down plantation house on the outskirts o' San Denee. You know where that is?"

"Yeah, I 'member." Obee looked around slowly, scanning the room. He could see Emelia coming back from the piano man.

"Be careful, boy. They's in some deep trouble with ole Angelo Bronte."

"Angelo Bronte?"

"Don't say his name so loud." Jed warned. "Yeah that pressed-up Italian who owns the city."

"Okay. So they in trouble?"

"They will be if they aren't already." Jed leaned back.

Danny and Obee looked at each other with worry.

"Listen, you boys can stay the night in the extra room upstairs. It's open, and we already closed the reservations. Just don't sleep in the bed, sleep on top of it. And make no noise. Ya hear?"

"Thanks Jed." Obee smiled brightly. Emelia had reached the group now.

"Jed, this is Emelia Moses."

She curtsied quickly and smiled.

"Pleasure. Now get." Jed whipped his wiping rag.

"So where are we going?" Emelia said, following Obee and Danny as they made their way up the stairs past the _Tapper from Texarkana_, who was busy at another face paced tune.

"Staying the night here, and setting out tomorrow for the outskirts. Obee, you let me sleep on the bunk in the train. You can sleep beside Emelia on the bed. Under my very watchful eye."

Emelia blushed lightly and laughed.

"I wouldn't try anything on Miss Emelia. Wouldn't dream of it."

They settled into the small room on the second floor of the saloon. It was directly across from a bath which cost a nickel and some time that none of them had. Luckily, they still had some food and Jed sent up some crackers, sliced meat and cheese as compliments. Emelia went down at 1:30am to personally thank him, and she returned momentarily later. The threesome slept soundly in the night, the rag piano playing them through the late crowds downstairs

* * *

The following morning was another early rise. Danny was woken up from under his hat by a tap from Emelia.

"We should head out before the maid comes to inspect the rooms." She said quietly. Danny nodded and hopped up, poked Obadiah in the stomach and relayed the idea. Obee agreed, getting the rucksack from the small chair and placing it on his back. The trio left the landing quietly, made their way through the empty saloon and out the front doors. The streets were sparsely populated, a few horse-drawn carts were being wheeled around, and the sun was cresting over the horizon.

"Thought I'd catch you before you leave." A low voice spoke from behind them. Jed was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. His apron was already on, dirtied with what looked like beef sauce or blood. Jed stepped down towards Obee, reaching for his hand. Obee reached to shake it and Jed placed a 5$ bill in his hand. "Use this for a buggy. It's a long walk to the edge of town. No sense wasting the day. Use the rest for food."

"Thank you, Jed." Obee looked up to his dark eyes. "Thank you."

"You come back now, ya hear?" Jed turned and walked back to the bar. "Mr. and Miss. Moses. You keep this boy outta trouble now." Jed smiled.

"We will." Emelia said. "With difficulty." She coughed a few times.

Obee grabbed their shoulders and pushed them onto the cobbles where they began looking for a buggy for rent. Down the hill, near the station a young boy, no older than 16, was waiting on a two-wheel operation.

"Where you going?" Danny started.

"Wherever." The boy replied, not looking back.

"You know the Shady Belle Plantation?"

"I'm familiar." The boy turned.

"Take us there, I'll give you 2$."

"Make it 3$. A dollar each." The boy said.

"Alright." Danny replied. Obee gave him 3$ and they boarded the little wagon.

"Hee-yah!" The boy shouted at the single horse, snapping the whip. The Clydesdale jumped up from his morning daydream, spun around and they headed towards the edge of the city. The roads were empty and so they moved faster than usual.

Emelia was watching the buildings pass her by; she hadn't been to the city since she was a child with her and Danny's parents. They were entering weaving through the industrial sector, a big warehouse on their left spelled C-O-R-N-W-A-L-L in tall white letters.

"Who's that?" Emilia asked.

"Cornwall?" The young driver-boy replied. "The richest sum bitch west o' Cleveland. Cornwall Tar and Kerosene?"

"Oh." Emelia mumbled.

"Leviticus Cornwall pretty much owns this town, him and Angelo Bronte. They control that idiot mayor like a puppet." The boy continued.

The buildings continued to fly by until they reached a meeting of roads and a steel truss bridge. St. Denis was written in wrought iron letters above it. After passing over the river they heeded left and moved farther and father from the bustling city and the smoke, heat, and people fell into obscurity. The hot, wet air clung to them like slush from the washboard. The mosquitoes began buzzing and the smell of swampy earth filled their nostrils. They continued another while as the brush got thicker and the road got smaller.

Suddenly the boy slowed up.

"Wo-aw" He pulled the reigns tightly on the horse. The Clydesdale dug its heels into the Peet moss.

"We're here. This road leads down to the bell. Although, I'd turn back now if I were you. The last time I was here, the Raiders owned this place."

"We'll be fine." Obee smiled. "My charm will tame them."

The driver-boy laughed.

"Good luck." He shouted.

Obee grabbed Emelia by the waist and lowered her down, he then reached for Danny's hand and pulled him off the wagon. The rucksack was still on his back. The trio moved down the road slowly, towards the dilapidated bricks that once were the front entrance to a massive sugar plantation.

At once there was movement. From behind the brick wall a man popped out holding a 30-30 in his hands and pointing it quickly towards them on the approach.

"State yo' business." He said. He was a negro, dressed in a white shirt, grey coat and black pants. Obee's smiled widened.

"I'm here to meet a fool." He replied walking closer, Emelia and Danny trailing behind.

"Then you're in the right place." The man replied, keeping the gun raised.

"Is Lenny Summers still here?"

"You're looking at him, who's inquirin''?"

"Obadiah Summers."

Lenny lowered the gun quickly, a broad smile crossing his face.

"My dimwit cousin." Lenny ran towards Obee and they embraced tightly, the gun swinging around his back. "Good to see you brother."

"Good to see you too." Obee said. They released from their embrace slowly, Lenny caught eye of Danny and Emelia. "Lenny, this is Danny and Emelia Moses. Brother and sister."

"Pleasure to meet you." Emelia said cordially.

"And a pleasure right back." Lenny smirked. "You didn't tell me you had such beautiful friends."

Emelia blushed but pushed past the men. Danny scoffed.

"Let me bring you to meet my fellow fools as we lie low in this private hell hole." Lenny grabbed Obadiah by the shoulder and put his arm around Danny. "Gentlemen, this is a garbage dump to rival all dumps. This is Gehenna at her finest. And Mr. Van der Linde likes it that way." He laughed.

They all walked slowly through the property, past the horses near the front and ended up near the firepit to the right of the big house.

"Dutch." Lenny called out. There was a brief silence followed by a side door opening on the house. A tall man with charcoal hair and mustache emerged, stretching as he exited. He was wearing a black bowler hat, a red vest and black pants. A cigar was dangling from his mouth.

"You called, son?" He began walking over to Lenny.

"Dutch, this my cousin, Obadiah Summers."

The young man moved to meet the older with an outstretched hand.

"Fine piece o' land you got here, Mr. Van der Linde."

"Don't you lie to me son, it's a shithole." He smiled broadly, shaking Obee's hand. "Enough of one that dear Uncle Sam doesn't have a care for us here."

"I like it. Miss the old swamp." Obee said.

"An who might your compatriots be?" Dutch asked.

"This is Danny Moses and his sister, Emelia."

"Well it is a pleasure to meet a fine woman such as yourself." Dutch took Emelia's hand and kissed it. He then outstretched his hand and shook Danny's. "And what would a fine young bunch such as yourselves be doing here?"

"I'll speak frankly, Mr. Van der Linde." Danny spoke up.

"My friends call me Dutch."

"Dutch. Emelia is sick. She's got something awful. There's medicine some of the doctors think will help, delay—things."

"I see." Dutch replied. "And you want some money to help her."

"No, well not exactly—" Danny stuttered. "I was hoping you might have some work for me. Obee tells me you have a hard working ga—group."

Dutch stood silently, looking down on the young trio.

"We are a hard-working family, we stick together." Dutch began. He moved around the fire, looking off towards the front gates. "You can stay with us, but be warned, son. We do expect returns, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Danny replied.

"We will provide the utmost care to your sister, she can stay here, with Ms. Gaskill. She's under the wagon over there." Dutch pointed for Emelia's sake. "Ms. Moses, I hope you understand my sending you off now. I need to share frank words with your brother and friend. I don't wish you to hear them."

She nodded, curtsied, and then made her way away from the men. Mary-Beth stood upon seeing her and smiled, welcoming her with open arms, and providing a seat by a smaller fire surround.

"We require complete and unquestioning loyalty here." Dutch looked to Danny and Obee, switching to follow their eyes. "If you have any disputes, bring them to myself. We settle things like gentlemen here, we don't let foolish arguments get out of hand. We require a 40% cut of all your earnings, it goes into a box which I have set in a safe location; closeby, but not close enough that prying hands could steal it away."

Dutch turned motioning for the boys to follow him. They walked around the fire and entered the big house through the side door.

"The longer you stay, the more money you bring in, the less of a cut we require. Now, I have a plan—" Dutch said as they entered the living room. A large table was set out with a map of St. Denis, pencils, a bunch of papers and letters, as well as an inkwell. "A plan that will get all of us out of this terrible state, and no I don't just mean Lemoyne." He smiled.

A middle-aged man in his 40s walked through the egress into the room. He was wearing a denim jacket, a black leather hat, and was clean shaven except for a well-trimmed mustache. He wore worn black work pants and preacher boots, similar to Danny's but with beautiful ornate brass spurs.

"Dutch, I'm headin—" The man hesitated. "Who are these people?" He said in a low gravely voice.

"Danny, Obadiah, meet Arthur Morgan, a son of mine."

Arthur reached out his hand and shook their hands swiftly.

"Listen, I'm going out, to help Eagles Flies with something. He's asked for my help. It's a bit of a trek, we're meeting in the hills near Valentine."

"Need help?" Dutch asked.

"I guess." Arthur replied.

"Danny, why don't you go with Arthur? Give you a chance to learn some of the ropes. You can ride a horse, right son?"

"Yeah. It's been a while but yeah." Danny said.

"Good." Dutch said. "Obadiah, you and I can go over a few things. We have a little bit of an operation coming up and I'll need all the hands I can get. I'm sure you'll also want some campfire time with Lenny."

"Sure thing, Mr. Van der Linde." Obee said.

"Now what I say about my name? It's Dutch, alright?" He smiled.

"Alright then. Let's go." Arthur motioned to Danny to follow him. They walked out the front doors and down the path until they reached the horses. Arthur put his foot into a golden stirrup and brazen saddle on a beautiful white Arabian.

"Wow. He's beautiful." Danny said, standing by.

"He's a she." Arthur said. "Harlow's her name. Been with me a few months. Fastest thing I've ever been on." He smiled, patting her neck. "Atsa girl. You can ride Pearson's horse. His name's Waller. The big brown idiot over there." Arthur pointed to a large, tall work horse.

"I'll bet he's slow as molasses in January." Danny muttered.

"Slower. Just like his owner." Arthur chuckled, then coughed a few times. "He's real gentle though."

Danny approached the horse cautiously. It didn't seem frightened in the least. The horse turned to face him, then looked on as he pulled the reigns from the post and took a near running jump at the stirrup to get onto the steed.

"You good with a gun?" Arthur asked as they set out down the path.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Hellfire

_DUE EAST OF CITADEL ROCK_

_THE HEARTLANDS _

_NEW HANNOVER, UNITED STATES_

"It's miserable." Danny said, wiping his nose. The rain had been coming down since they left St. Denis. And it had rained for almost the entire trip over. Arthur paid for all of Danny's provisions as they made their way out of the Bayou and up to the plains. He didn't talk much, Danny noted. He coughed occasionally and asked a few questions.

Waller was a great steed while going steady but quickly tired on the long fast stretches. Harlow, Arthur's White Arabian, didn't even blink the entire ride. Eventually, they had made it just north of Twin Stack Pass when Arthur began looking to the ridgeline.

"What are you looking for?" Danny asked.

"Indians." Arthur replied quietly. "One Indian, particularly."

The rain had broken about an hour earlier, but the ground was turned to mud, and the horses were getting stuck and slowed more frequently. Danny ate some salted beef Arthur had bought from a trade post near Lakay. It was chewy but satisfying.

Eventually, they made it to a specific point where many roads converged and went their separate ways. Arthur slowed Harlow.

"Woaw girl, woaw." She trotted, and then stopped. "We're supposed to meet around here." Arthur began scanning the horizon.

"Over there." Danny said, pointing to a group of trees. A small fire and smoke were visible from their location.

"Good eye." Arthur said, clicking his lips. Harlow began trotting towards the treeline. Danny followed with Waller.

As they drew closer, it became more apparent that it was their target.

"Mr. Morgan." A voice jumped from beside the camp fire. "You came."

"Said I would" He dismounted, smacking his hands together.

"And you brought company." The man noted, looking to Danny.

"Eagle Flies, this is Danny Moses."

Danny dismounted and moved towards the man to shake his hand.

"I'm glad you've both come. We're going to need a skilled hand for this job." Eagle Flies pulled a pair of binoculars from his sack. "Look to the horizon, down the hill."

Arthur took the binoculars and followed the instructions. There, in the valley, was Cornwall Kerosene & Tar.

"There's a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room. It's the window with the blind drawn up."

"I see it" Arthur handed Danny the binoculars; Danny began scanning the building.

"If the files are as incriminating as we believe, Mr. Cornwall's men will destroy them if they know you're coming."

"There's only two of us, son. I don't intend to let them know I'm coming."

Danny passed the binoculars back to Eagle Flies.

"There'll be a report from the Leland Oil Development Company"

"And you've got the money?" Arthur turned to face Eagle Flies.

"Yes." He replied curtly.

"Any ideas how we could get into this place?"

"Crawl under the fence, or board one of the wagons that goes in and out." Eagle Flies said. "It's up to you, but do it quick. One of the wagons should be coming around any minute. I can't be involved, so I'm leaving." He walked over to his small fire and began stomping it out. "Good luck. I'll be waiting over the hill for you. If you can't meet me, I'll be in Valentine."

The Indian took off for the hill quietly, making sure to not be seen by the wagoners below.

"Follow my lead, keep the Lancaster on your back. Do you have a pistol?" Arthur asked Danny.

"No."

"Take this one. Do not lose it. Crack the bottom barrel to load it."

Danny struggled to figure out the latch. Arthur grabbed the gun from his hands.

"Like this." He scoffed. "It's an 8-round clip. She reloads like the Lancaster, from the bottom with the lever, you see boy?"

"Yeah." Danny grasped the pistol and cranked the lever a few times, catching the bullets and reloading them. "I get it."

"Good. Keep a cool head. We don't want any shots ringing off before they need to."

"You think we'll be shootin'?" Danny's voice trembled.

"Oh, with the way my lucks been going, son its inevitable. You ever killed a man?" Arthur motioned Danny to follow him down the slight slope which lead to the railroad below.

"Never."

"Best not to think about it. I'll do most of the shootin' if things go sour. I'll need you to back me up though." Arthur said.

"Alright. I will." Danny replied.

The duo made their way to the supplies wagon which had stopped briefly for a small passenger train rolling by from Valentine. Once the train had cleared, Arthur and Danny were already huddled down in the back of the supplies, covered by a canvas blanket. The two waggoneers were gabbing on endlessly and chiding each other so often that any noise the boys made would be covered by their drunken laughter and screams. The wagon made its way across the lower plain and entered the back of the compound from the west. Once inside, Arthur made a motion to sit up, and hop off the wagon. They did so quietly, before the wagon had stopped, and made their way for an unguarded, unlit door on the side of the factory. Arthur took the lead, opening the door, checking inside for any workmen or guards who would be straggling around at this time; most likely bored to death and sleeping. Only a few workmen were visible.

"Follow me." Arthur whispered. Danny crept behind him and they entered the factory floor. Weaving around some of the machinery, Arthur caught the first workman by chance. He was bending over and Arthur knocked him on the back of the head with his rifle butt. The man crumpled to the floor. Danny followed Arthur closely as they made their way through the building, up the rear stairs, and cautiously past the sleeping guard in the corner. Suddenly they heard a voice.

"Hey, what are you two doing here?"

It was a young man, no more than 25. He was dressed in the casual clothes of a workman. The look of understanding crossed the young man's eyes as he finished the sentence. In a moment, a decision had to be made. Would the young man sound the alarm for more guards to come, risking his life, most likely to die on the second floor of a tarring factory at 25, or would he stay silent, look the other direction, and walk away. Alternatively, he may not really understand who they are, and totally misjudge the situation. Arthur instantly reached into his pocket and pulled out a long thin knife. As quick as a flash, the knife exited his hand and flung as a bullet through the air into the man's throat. The young boy clutched his throat where the knife entered, and he began cough and gargling for air. He ripped the knife from his neck as blood started pouring into his hands and down his chest. The look of sheer panic crossed his eyes. He stared at Arthur blindly as he choked on his own froth and blood.

Arthur made a single sign with his hand, to keep Danny down. It was just his hand, held out, as if to keep Danny safe from the man, even though there was no danger. The boy coughed and hacked for half a minute before he finally rested silently in a pool of his own blood.

Danny stood there, under Arthur's watchful hand, motionless. The blood had drained from his face and eyes. Danny was pale and limp. He felt extremely ill.

"I'm sorry." Arthur said. Danny didn't know to whom. "We have to go." He pointed down the walkway to the office Eagle Flies had indicated was their match. Danny clung to Arthur like a wet cloth and said nothing until they were safely behind the door of Mr. Danbury's office.

"Ah." Arthur started. "You must be Danbury."

"Who?" The man replied. Arthur picked up a chair nearby, jamming it underneath the doorknob. "What?"

"Quieten yourself, friend, this won't take long." He continued. Danny stood motionless by the door, paralyzed with fear. Arthur walked up to the small desk where Mr. Danbury was sitting, leaned over, grabbed him by the collar and ripped Mr. Danbury over the desk, throwing him onto the floor near Danny's feet.

"Danbury."

"Yes—?" The man cowered.

"I need some papers, my friend—nothing important—a file, I'm from head office." Arthur stood looming over Danbury, his fist clenched.

"You're not from head office!" The man choked. Immediately, Arthur brought his fist down upon the man's face, sending him back into the ground.

"Does that seem important right now?" Arthur asked, moving over.

"No…" Mr. Danbury, now bloodied, sputtered.

"I need a file by the Leland Oil Development Company. The one about oil near Wapiti."

"I…I…. they'll kill me." He moved back against the wall, standing himself up.

"Mr—Abraham…" Arthur turned to Danny. "Why don't you come here, show Mr. Danbury that pretty gun I just gave you."

Danny stood still, staring down Arthur without a word.

"I said, Mr. Abraham, why don't you show that gun to Mr. Danbury."

Finally, Danny moved. He pulled the pistol from his pocket, pointing the golden long barrel at Danbury. The man cowered, covering his face.

"Okay!" He shouted. "It's here, it's here. No need for that." He moved over to the desk, opening the drawers. From the top drawer, he pulled a red and brown leather bookfold and threw it on the desk to Arthur. Arthur grabbed it, opened the fold checking for the words _Leland_. He threw the bookfold to Danny.

"You done good, Mr. Danbury. Real good. They'll give you a promotion for this."

"Unlikely. They'll kill me." Danbury replied.

"Then I guess you might want to jump out the window with us, and make a run for it."

Danbury looked to the window. Danny was flipping through the pages of the bookfold. In it were a few different documents pertaining to the Leland Oil Development, and the Oil Development Plan. Danny pulled them from the pouch to read them closer.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Danny jolted.

"Danbury, are you alright?"

"Oh dear. Now Danbury, you're just gonna tell those gentlemen that you're just fine. You wouldn't want to end up with me coming back for a visit from head office now, would ya?" Arthur asked.

"I'm—fine." Danbury replied loudly. "Just working."

The footsteps from behind the door began to move away, and finally they disappeared. Danny continued reading the documents. In bold writing, underneath the Leland Companies name was '**subsidiary of the **_**Standard Oil Company**_'.

"Standard Oil?" Danny questioned aloud.

"What?" Arthur muttered, making a move for the window.

"These documents belong to Standard Oil."

"What do I care?" Arthur slid the window open, looking outside.

"The biggest oil company in the world? Your man Cornwall has the most powerful friend in the United States." Danny said, his eyes ablaze. "My daddy—my daddy worked for Standard. They worked him to the bone."

"They won't miss these papers. We're a long way from wherever they are I'm sure." Arthur started moving out of the window, motioning for Danny to follow. Danny slid the documents into the bookfold again and then followed Arthur onto the roof. It was corrugated steel, and extremely slippery from the rain.

"Oh they will. Rockefeller doesn't miss a thing. You know he had my ole man put 38 rivets in the barrels because 40 was a waste, and at 37, they'd leak. The man's a freakshow. He'll shit all ov—"

Before Danny could get the words out, he'd slipped on the wet steel and began sliding down the roof. Arthur reached out quickly to grab him but fell himself. They both slid down the roof, clamoring around for a ridge or bolt to stop themselves. Both men fell off the edge and landed on the ground with a loud clamour. A few guards nearby rushed over to the scene. Arthur and Danny were doubled over, getting back onto their feet.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." One of the guards laughed. "Gentlemen, of course, I'm going to have to demand your weapons."

"I figured—you would." Arthur coughed a few times. "And I will obviously have to decli—"

Before the sentence was finished, he'd reached for a silver Schofield revolver in his pocket and blasted 3 shots. One into the first man's head, the second, into the second man's chest, and the third, into the third man's groin. They all doubled over, two screaming in agony.

At that moment, a billowing soundwave blasted past both Arthur and Danny, nearly knocking them over. The oil derrick at the edge of the long yard had burst into flames like a pillar of fire from heaven in the night.

"Well—shit." Arthur spat. A throng of men were galloping into the yard, hollering and screaming. They fired off their guns angrily into the sky, and once they'd spotted the two imposters, they took aim and began firing.

"Son, I'm gonna need your help now, ya hear?" Arthur said. "You pull out that Lancaster, and you fire. Don't think. Just shoot. Aim, and shoot. Go right for the chest above the belly." Arthur jumped behind a pallet of tall wooden boxes. Danny stood motionless in fear once again but was snapped out of it by Arthur's scream.

"_BOY_. I said get your gun, and shoot!"

Danny leaped down beside Arthur and poked his head out. The men didn't quite have a location on them and were firing away. Arthur had pulled the bolt action rifle from his back. He careful lined up the shots and was picking off the men who were panicking. Danny leaned out a little further and pulled the Lancaster to his eye, taking aim. A guard, in his 30s, was wrangling some of the panicking men. He was about 100 yards away, well within shot distance. Danny had shot a soda bottle at much farther distances. He knew he could make the shot, but he hesitated. Arthur continued popping shots. The young man continued screaming to rally his troops. He was pointing at Danny and Arthur now.

Danny took the shot. The round exploded out the barrel and sunk into the man's back instantly. He crumpled, and lay on the ground, quietly bleeding out. _I wonder what he's thinking_. _Is he bargaining with God? Is he already gone_?

"Good shot." Arthur screamed. "We gotta move." He stood up, grabbing Danny by the coat and yanking him from the platform. They made a run towards the derrick where Arthur spotted Eagle Flies, riding a horse with a torch and a bow, shooting arrows towards the men following them. Eagle Flies had brought their horses nearby, but they were spooked by the explosion and were aways off in the field. The boys ran like mad, sometimes turning to take shots at the men near the derrick.

A second ear-splitting explosion blasted into the sky as more of the oil and kerosene tanks nearby went up in flames. This bought Arthur and Danny the time to find their horses and gallop off into the distance.

* * *

"So you did this, all for your buddy." Lenny asked Obee. They were sitting around the fire; Mary-Beth, Emelia, Karen, Miss Grimshaw and Pearson had also sat down.

"Yeah. Emelia needed the help." Obee concluded, looking over to her with a smile. She smiled back and looked to the fire.

"My cousin, putting his life on the line. Never thought I'd see the day." Lenny laughed. "You shor' grown up since I saw you."

"Lotta things changed, since I was in the bayou." Obee drank his beer. "Lotta things."

"I'm glad you did." Emelia added. Obadiah grinned. "How long have you all been together?"

"Oh that depends." Mary-Beth said. "Some of us for a few months, like Micah. Some of us for many, many years like Arthur and John. All depends when Dutch found you."

"Dutch is the sun that we all revolve around?" Emelia asked.

"Indeed." John said, approaching the group and sitting down on the opposite edge of the fire. "He's the glue that sticks to you and you can't help but get stuck, then dragged along."

"What's your story?" Karen asked, looking at Emelia. "You poor? You seem thin as a rake."

"I'm not well." Emelia admitted, coughing hoarsely. "I don't know how long I got."

The was a short silence.

"We'll make everyday count, then." John smirked.

"Will do." Emelia raised her beer bottle, drinking back them warm liquid. "Danny's looked after me ever since we were young. 15 or 16, I think. My dad worked for himself, he owned an oil land development company. We were wealthy. Big house, big stable. My dad was riding horses a lot. Then Standard Oil came knocking. They drove my dad's company into the ground. He couldn't pay people to buy his oil, because Rockefeller was paying them not to. Eventually he sold it to Rockefeller, who brought him on at Standard Oil. They worked him to the bone. He killed himself, and my mother moved away with another man. I don't remember much. Danny doesn't like talking about it. We moved from place to place, we both got jobs. Then I got sick. Now were here."

"Wow." Pearson mumbled. "Now that's a life. Wonder what it would be like to be rich."

"Yeah, now's the appropriate time to bring that up, Pearson." John said.

"What!" Pearson retorted. "I was just saying."

"Mind yo' manners, cook." Lenny laughed. Pearson raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright!" There was a shout from behind the campfire. Dutch approached the circle with Hosea at his side.

"We've got the plan ready!" He said, triumphantly. "Dear Hosea and I have been working tirelessly on this, and its ready to go. It's happening tomorrow."

Micah approached the fire from the rear, leaning up against a nearby tree to hear.

"With Bronte gone, Jack safely home in our care, it's time to make our move. The Lemoyne National Bank is a sitting duck." He laughed, sitting down on the log beside Emelia. "Hosea, Abigail. You're drawing out the police with the dynamite we have stored on the wagon. We move in calm and fast. John and Lenny, you boys've got the front doors. Javier takes the side exit. Bill, Micah, Charles and Obadiah will be on crowd control. Shoot the ceiling, I don't care. Scare 'em good. Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly, Miss Grimshaw and Pearson, you all better be packed and ready to move as soon as we leave. Once this thing starts, there's no telling when it will stop. Emelia, you rest. Oh, and once Arthur and Danny return, they'll be with me in the bank vault, securing the payload. Got it?"

"Got it" each member said simultaneously.

"Good. Emelia, could you come with me dear?" Dutch asked, pointing towards the illuminated big house.

"Sure." She stood slowly, steadying herself and following the husky man.

"I bought a bottle of Ginseng Elixir from an Indian chief a while back. He said it won't cure anything, but it will stave off any infections and clear up chesty coughs. I wasn't sure if I still had it, but I left it with Hosea." Dutch pulled the tall crystal bottle from a storage sack, giving it to Emelia. "It tastes absolutely awful, by the way. But it works. Take it consistently.

"Thank you, Dutch." Emelia smiled sorrowfully. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, darling. Let's get ourselves out of this shithole. Thank me then." He smiled, bowed, and walked back to the fire.

* * *

Eagles Flies met Arthur and Danny on the trail back towards Lemoyne. He paid Arthur for his services, and then took the documents from the red leather bookfold. He smiled brightly and said, "This will help us a lot."

Arthur and Danny took off into the night, knowing the law would be hunting them feverishly by morning. Not a word was spoken between them during the longest section of the trip. It took them many hours with breaks in between for feeding the horses to finally reach the border of Lemoyne. Once they crossed over the river and spotted the sign, Arthur breathed a sigh a relief.

"We made it." Arthur said, slowing up the horse a bit. "No way they followed us this far."

"Not in their jurisdiction anyway."

"Now that's a word." Arthur smiled for the first time since they met. "You—uh, you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"I mean about—"

"I know what you meant." Danny cut him off.

The rode in silence for a moment.

"It get's easier." Arthur said.

"I don't know if that's good, or bad." Danny replied.

"It's not good. But it's true. It get's easier. Soon you won't even think about it."

Arthur looked to the horizon, the great calling of the wild upon him. He reflected on the young man following, not unlike himself in many ways. The look of goodness in the eyes and heart but taken by the black cynicism of the world. Some sordid past, surely. How would he have ended up here?

They rode on, occasionally discussing the occurrences of the previous night. Eventually by midday, they'd reached St. Denis. Arthur had to pick up post for Dutch at the main office, and he wanted to give Danny the go-around of St. Denis before the heist would be happening. Dutch had filled in Arthur before his departure to meet with Eagle Flies.

Danny walked around the train station at first, getting his bearings while Arthur was in the post office. He didn't want to wander too far off and get lost as he barely knew the way home. Fortunately, there were a few different maps nailed to the walls of the office. As well as wanted posters, including that of "_Any man, woman, or child, associated with the van der Linde Gang."_ 50$ compensatory reward.

"Thinkin' of turnin' on us?" Arthur said, approaching from behind.

"No." Danny said without skipping a beat. "$50 ain't enough."

Arthur smiled.

"We ain't done a lot of good lately." He conceded. "Lotta good people been hurt. I intend to put an end to it."

A train began rolling into the station. It wasn't bigger than usual, but it was sleeker. The locomotive was much longer than the usual brand. It looked fairly new, the paint on the locomotive and tender was a bright ultramarine blue; very uncommon for the line. The cars pulling up behind were newer as well; painted a variety of greens. The locomotive slowed up in the station, the whistle blowing loudly. Some passengers began disembarking dressed smartly. Suddenly Arthur noticed that from the rear-most cars, a group of men began stepping off. They were all dressed in shotgun coats, the same ultramarine blue as the locomotive. Underneath were dark brown vests, white collared shirts, and ties. Many of them had shotguns and long guns hanging off their backs.

"What the hell is this." Danny turned to Arthur.

"I dunno." Arthur said. Both men were staring intently. "It ain't good. Looks like Pinkertons but they don't wear blue, they wear red and black mostly."

Then she stepped off. She was wearing a shotgun coat like the rest of the men, but it was dark brown. Her vest was the same, and her collared shirt was open without a tie. She was beautiful. One of the most strikingly beautiful women Danny had seen. She was in her early thirties perhaps, with the most golden locks of shoulder length hair which was tied up to keep it together in the back like the hair of a horses' tail. She had a large light brown estate boss hat on.

"Who the hell is that." Arthur muttered.

"Let's find out." Danny said, moving closer to small crowd of blue as they gathered together beside the train station

"Danny, no—" Arthur said loudly, quickly reaching for the boy but no to no avail. Danny was already moving up to the side of the post office, clinging against the wall. He was exhausted, but his curiosity was eating him alive. As he approached the group, he could see the whites of their eyes, the quickness of the big city emanated from them. They were all speaking together in groups until she spoke.

"Listen up."

She had turned to face the throng of men. They instantly bit their tongues and turned to face her. She stood on the edge of the boardwalk around the post office. Danny was shocked by their stillness. Not a man drew breath without first being told. They went from a disorganized sea, to a coursing river of attentiveness.

"We are here for one thing, and one thing only. We minimize collateral damage. No civilian contact. No beer. No bars. No brothels. This is a Christian nation, for God sake. Let's keep it that way."

Some of the men began smiling, others made no face at all.

"We are here as the exactors of justice. We get in, we get out. As I told you earlier, the van der Linde gang is resting somewhere near the outskirts of the city. We do not know where…"

Danny turned to face Arthur. The sturdy man was standing a ways off, cautiously watching Danny from across the street. Arthur could see Danny was alarmed and so he began walking towards him.

"Search this city high and low, using anything within the law to find their location. They have documents pertaining to a deal that John Dee is very fond of having returned. We're on any force necessary, boys."

Danny could see a grin cross her lips, as well as many of the union in front of her. Some of the men cheered.

"Good. Now get out of my sight. I'll be waiting around the post office here until someone brings us something. I'll sounds the train whistle five times quickly, and then we meet here. We leave as soon as were a group."

As fast as they had offboarded the train, they dispersed through the city like rats in a maze. The beautiful ring leader walked down the boardwalk. Danny quickly turned to face away from her and looked towards Arthur who was now nearly upon Danny.

"It ain't good. It ain't good." Danny mumbled. "Look away."

Arthur grabbed his large hat, tilted it down and brought a cigarette to his lips. He faced immediately away from the woman as she walked behind them.

"Excuse me." The woman said. Danny's hair stood on end and he reached down for his pistol. "Do you have a light? I left mine behind."

"Of course." Arthur said, pulling out a small box of matches, and striking one for the woman. He held it to the cigarette she had placed between her rose lips. She inhaled and exhaled a large plume of greyish blue smoke.

"Thank you." She said, nodding and walking into the post office.

"She's after us." Danny mumbled. Walking the long way around the office towards the horses. "They're already here."

"Who? Who goddammit?" Arthur said, perplexed.

"Standard Oil. They're here." He was nearly losing his mind, he spoke in broken sentences.

"The company we just stole from?" Arthur asked.

"Yes."

"How the hell'd they get here so fast? What's so bad about them."

"You don't get it." Danny hopped onto Waller. "You just don't understand. This is gods country. And god is John Davison Rockefeller. He will come down on us with a hellfire you haven't even seen before. He will rip you apart limb from limb and feed you to the dogs with your torso alive."

"How the shit do you know so much about him?"

"My daddy worked for him. We used to be rich, see." Danny clicked his heels and Waller began walking. Arthur had saddled onto Harlow and he followed in close proximity. "We were the Moses' of Rossville. We owned all the oil in New Austin and some of New Hannover. Then _he_ came down from Cleveland and destroyed my father's company. He'd buy out every supplier, pay off every union leader, undercut at ever price. It ruined my father, but then ole John Dee came and made daddy a deal he couldn't refuse. They bought him out, repainted our barrels with Standards name, and kept going. Gave my daddy a job at headquarters in Cleveland so we moved to Ohio. What a shithole that city is."

Arthur said nothing but was enraptured by Danny storytelling.

"Rockefeller killed him. He was gone at every hour of every day and night. What money we had, my mother spent on her affair with some city socialite. She bought him everything. Eventually, Daddy figured this all out, the affair along with never seeing us, and couldn't take it. He hanged himself in his office. Ole Rocky didn't flinch. Probably pulled him down, took the name off the desk, and slapped a new one in the same hour. He's coming for you; us. He's coming for us."

They rode in silence.

Arthur's mind was racing, coming out on every angle. He didn't know where to go. "I've only dealt with the Pinkerton's" He hollered as they galloped through the industrial sector. "How much worse could they be?"

"Much." Danny said. "They're smarter, organized, and funded by a company with the money of the USA."

Harlow quietly overtook Waller as the twosome passed Cornwall's plant in St. Denis. They were making their way towards the outskirts of the city headed southwest. From the adjacent road, Arthur noticed something in the corner of his eye. Travelling nearly the same speed was a single mounted man in an ultramarine shotgun coat. He wasn't galloping at speed, neither was he trotting along slowly. He was keeping pace.

"We're being followed." Arthur spat. "How'd they get here, how'd they find us suh'damn quick?"

"I told you." Danny said calmly. "These ain't the Pinkerton's. It's begun."

Arthur quieted himself for a moment and began thinking. The two roads on which they, and the man in the shotgun coat, were on, converged ahead as they came to the steel bridge leaving St. Denis. It wouldn't be a minute before the man was upon them. The entire force must be alerted by now, if they are as fast as Danny said, and wouldn't be far behind. They had one shot to make it out. The city would be a swarm if they delay, and Dutch's plan; ruined.

"Jump to my horse." Arthur shouted. Danny looked over as if the elder man was not in his right mind. "Jump onto my horse, we'll never make it with that steed. He's old, fat, and slow. Not meant for a high speed chase. The Standard man is riding a Missouri Fox Trotter, looks like. He'll be on you before you can blink. Now jump to my horse, dammit!"

Danny quickly changed direction and rode especially close to Harlow. Arthur calmed her down and continued at speed. Danny threw Arthur the long gun on his back, and then reached over to grab the edge of Harlow's black saddle. He could feel the horse slowly moving away and Waller was tiring quickly at the pace they were riding. With one fell move, Danny kicked away from the work horse and landed lying across Harlow's rump. Waller slowed down instantly, and moved off the road.

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this from Pearson." Arthur mused. Danny lifted himself quickly, turned to face Arthur, and held onto his coat tightly. "Hee-yaw!" Arthur shouted while spurring Harlow. The white bullet took off instantly. Danny gripped Arthur even tighter with fear. The Standard man didn't notice their quick speed gain for at least 10 seconds after the take off and angrily spurred his spotted steed as well. As the roads converged towards the bridge, Arthur turned and noticed that behind the Standard man on the Missouri Trotter, a group of 5 other men lingered back about 200 yards. The first Standard man was now about 50 yards behind them.

As they reached the steel bridge, Arthur heard the first shot ring out. A bullet whizzed past his head and knocked into one of the steel trusses above him. He ducked, pulling out the Schofield from his holster, and returned fire blindly.

"Grab the Lancaster from my back, and shoot!" Arthur screamed. Danny obeyed, unclipping the leather strap, and turned behind him. The Missouri Fox Trotter wasn't closing the distance, but was not falling behind either.

"Can't you go faster?" Danny asked.

"She's weighed down, boy. Can't go quicker than we are already. She's doin' her best."

Danny spun, extended the long black iron rifle, and took aim towards the Standard man.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Standard

_Lafayette Street,_

_French Quarter, St. Denis_

_State of Lemoyne_

At the edge of Lafayette Street, just before the cobbles sweep down to their south-facing curve along the Lannahechee River, there remains a monument to the attempts of the old government to stop crime. Far reaching before Lemieux was mayor, the police force of St. Denis was formed because of the rampant and consistent crime that embroiled the town for many years. The mayor at the time, Patton, brought down an iron fist upon the reprobates and built a great white behemoth of a building, standing four stories tall and looming over the empty square where so many degenerates have been hanged to dry. Patton being long gone, and with Lemieux at the helm, Superintendent of Police Dexter S. Gaster watched as his beloved St. Denis once again was succumbing to the corruption it had in his father's time. Gaster was not an old man, but he certainly wasn't young. A great brown mustache clung to his upper lip, almost like a long, curled stick. He was a seasoned Superintendent, one of the longest serving in the history of St. Denis. He was a proud father and husband. But this wave of gangland violence, stringing back to the assassination of the previous Superintendent, David C. Hennessey, had to stop. Today though, the oddity of certain events enraptured Superintendent Gaster.

"Sir, there's an occurrence at the station today." Gaster's right hand man, Edwin Pardee, said curtly as he barged into his employer's office.

"What is it this time, Pardee?"

"An unscheduled train rolled in. It's a mammoth of a locomotive, normal length but in a bright shade of blue."

"Who's on board?" Gaster questioned, staring through the blinds of his fourth story office to the cobblestones below.

"Some tourists, but mostly suited men. In that same bright blue."

Gaster turned quickly.

"What have our men on the ground said?"

"Not much, they noticed the train pull in, a rally occurred momentarily afterwards, and then they dispersed quickly."

"Not the Pinkertons, heh? They would have checked in with me by now." Gaster walked around his desk and changed from his light officer coat to a heavier blue felt decorated coat.

"Certainly not, sir." Pardee moved to allow Gaster by.

"How many patrolmen are in the Eleventh today, Pardee?"

"All thirty seven, sir."

"Call ten of those men off the beat for today. Take them from the Riverfront, leave the rest on Harmony and Louisa."

"Of course, sir. Where shall we meet them?"

"Tell them to meet us in a group on Decatur, just south of Chartres."

"Very good sir."

Gaster held the door to his office open, and followed Pardee out the door, locking it behind himself. Pardee veered off to his own desk to make immediate arrangements, and Gaster headed for the stairs. After descending the floors and exiting the building, he made an immediate turn down Lafayette and marched briskly towards police rail. The roads were already filling with residents and carts. Many in this quarter were vendors and salesmen, preparing for a day at the French Market. Gaster's horse, Major, was reigned to the police post rail. He saddled up, clicked his teeth, and Major took off down the cobbles.

It was only a few minutes on horseback to the main station by the riverfront. Gaster slowed up as he approached and notice the train Pardee had spoken of. The whistle was blowing loudly through the air and it began chugging away on the main line. The Superintendent noticed a stout man in a blue shotgun coat standing across the street making his way up the hill. He watched the train as it pulled away, and the engineer was watching Gaster closely. Gaster eyed him back, and then took off across the intersection of roads towards the man in the shotgun coat.

"Purpose of your visit to St. Denis, friend?" Gaster asked, trotting beside the sidewalk.

"Seeing the great city, tending to business." The man said, looking straight ahead.

"Where do you come from?" Gaster pressed.

"Up north."

"What's your business?"

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, officer, but I'm on a really tight schedule today. If you don't mind, I'd like to walk with peace." The man was tight lipped and refused to look at the Superintendent.

Gaster was taken aback. The man spoke with a brazen attitude, and was clearly unaware of his rank. _Perhaps they do things very __differently__ up north_ – he surmised.

"Very well." Gaster replied, pulling on Major's reigns and galloping across the trolley tracks and back down the hill whence he had come. He moved swiftly through the main riverbend intersection and moved past the post office once again. There was a blonde woman, standing in the middle of group of blue coats. He slowed Major down, but not enough to be noticed. She was gesticulating, pointing down the roar towards old Cornwall's plant. Six of the men ran towards their horses and immediately got on horseback, galloping quickly away. The blonde woman wore a brown outfit and a large hat adorned her head. She moved slowly, unlike the other men, and hopped onto a greenish-brown Turkoman. A beautiful horse with a sparse golden mane. He stared so long at the woman that Major nearly ran into a vendor's cart.

He steered Major towards the outer industrial sector, taking a short by-trip from his intended destination on Decatur and Chartres. The ten men from the eleventh would be there soon but he had the moment to spare. Far ahead were the men in blue shotgun coats, galloping quickly towards the edge of town. They were not running flat out, but their speed was certainly quick. The Superintendent was sure his Mustang could keep pace with whatever breeds their horses carried.

"Hee-yaw!" He quipped, spurring Major. They had taken a secondary road rather than the main road and were gaining on the blue coats.

Suddenly the apparent ring leader took off like a bat from hell. The rest followed suit.

"How did they notice me?" Gaster asked aloud. He spurred Major and at once the steed jumped into pursuit. Gaster reached for his police service pistol and cocked the hammer in the holster, holding one hand down tightly on the grip. The men had just reached the crossroads and it was only then that he looked ahead and noticed another man; no two men, on horseback, riding quickly away.

Without warning, the first man opened fire.

"Shit." The Superintendent yelled. "Shit."

The boy on rear of the white steed turned with a long gun and cracked a shot towards the first man as they came to the end of the bridge.

"Faster, Major. Faster." Gaster said. He had gained a lot of distance on the group and was now only 20 yards behind the action.

* * *

Danny Moses felt the recoil from Arthur's Lancaster repeater slam into his arm. He had not grabbed the gun correctly in his haste and left too much room behind the stock. A bruise was certain to ensue. The bullet had not landed on target and had, instead, entered the lower abdomen of the Missouri Fox Trotter behind him. The horse crumpled instantly and threw the blue coat 5 yards onto the mud and dung covered grates of the bridge. The other horses galloped around the fallen man and continued without hesitation towards Danny.

A new man had taken to shooting towards Danny. It was apparent to Arthur that they didn't want the twosome dead, for they were not taking many shots, but were more likely trying to bring down Harlow.

"Shoot for cover. They're going to go for my girl." Arthur shouted, turning to Danny.

Danny cracked off 2 more shots towards the group of horses. They dispersed and it seems one of the bullets landed its mark in the shoulder of a blue coat.

From behind the commotion a loud whistle rang out. A smartly dressed officer on horseback had joined the chase and was in pursuit on a Mustang. He had his service revolver drawn and shot off into the air. He stood in the stirrups and screamed something unintelligible.

The blue coats turned to face him, and the one at the rear intended to fire. Without blinking, the officer brought the service pistol to length and blasted a .38 round into the chest of the assailant. He tumbled from the horse and hit the ground rolling. Once again, the officer blew the whistle loudly, over and over again. As a few of the remaining blue coats reached for their pistols to shoot at the officer, Arthur had reached around with his Schofield and shot 3 rounds towards the group. One landed in the neck of a tall but ugly gentleman, another landed in the rump of one of the horses and the third flew to oblivion. The ugly tall man swerved off the road and fell into a small creek bed and the wounded horse kicked ferociously until the blue coat was thrown to the ground. Still there remained two blue coats in pursuit of Arthur and Danny. One of them turned to face the duded-up officer and took aim to shoot. The officer fired at him but missed.

A stray bullet from the first man wildly flailing his pistol hit the officer. The officer screamed briefly and clutched his arm; luckily it wasn't his shooting arm. He fired back the remaining bullets in his pistol and mortally wounded the first man's horse. Knowing he had no options, he spun around on a dime and headed back towards St. Denis.

"Our back-ups gone." Arthur said, snapping the reigns tight against Harlow. "Make these shots count boy."

The final blue coat rushed towards the rear of the horse. His arm was fully extended, gun in hand and a burning in his eye. He began shooting rapidly, knowing his window was closing for success. Danny drew the Lancaster, looked down the sights, and had his finger on the trigger when a stray bullet winged him in the arm. He clutched the wound quickly and let out a shriek in pain.

"Where're ya hit?" Arthur said.

"Arm, I think." Danny winced.

"Can you use the other arm? He's fired all his shots. He'll waste time reloading."

"I dunno if I got the strength." He yelped.

Arthur tugged on Harlow's reigns and the horse drew to stop instantly, spinning to face the assailant. The man was not expecting the turn of events and fumbled to grab his own horses' reigns but was too late. He had overshot Arthur and Danny.

"Sumbi-"

A plethora of shots riddled the man's back and a few exited his chest. He drew his last breath and tumbled from the saddle. The sulfuric smoke exited the Lancaster that Arthur had grabbed from Danny's hands.

There was a deafening silence clinging to the air. Danny's heart was racing, and he had lost a good amount of blood. He tried his best not to make noise. Arthur looked around, his hand still hovering above the trigger. He brought the gun to his eye with care and inspected the bodies. They made no movement.

Arthur dismounted swiftly and ran to his latest victim. The man was laying on his back; he reached into his pockets. There was a newer golden pocket watch, a dollar thirty and nothing else.

"Shit." Arthur muttered. "We gotta get back. You don't look good."

He jumped back onto the horse and clicked his tongue. Harlow took off with a bolt towards the camp

* * *

Superintendent of Police Dexter S. Gaster road into the throng of his men thirteen minutes late. His man, Pardee, was mounted and facing away from him. Upon seeing Major and the Superintendent round the bend, he shouted to the men.

"Finally. Our man shows!"

The men laughed briefly until Gaster approached a mite closer. Suddenly one of the officers broke.

"Oh my Lord!" One recoiled in horror.

Pardee jumped from his horse, running to meet Gaster.

"Sir, what happened?"

"It's those blue coats." He huffed, clutching the arm tighter. "They're no good. Gentlemen, we have something on our hands. I don't know who these men are, and what they're about, but it's no good."

"We'll find them, Sir. Schiller; take the men out. I will escort the Superintendent to the doctors."

Pardee approached Major with his own horse.

"Have your fingers ready when you approach. These men are unpredictable, and dangerously armed." Gaster shouted to his clan. "I want their leader in my office by the end of day. Hee-yah!"

Major jumped slightly and took off. Pardee slapped the reigns on his horse and followed in close proximity. The group dispersed.

"Where did this happen?" Pardee demanded as they rode through the city.

"I caught a glimpse as they were riding towards the edge of the city at speed." Gaster managed through deep winced breaths. "They were after someone. Two men, on a white steed. They had the eyes to kill. I think… I think they got away." He managed.

"Save your breath, Sir. We're almost there."

* * *

There was great trepidation in the heart of Ethel Gold as she stood beside her great Dark Bay Turkoman. She used her hand to run through her horse's mane and coat. It had been twenty minutes since she first made contact with the two men she presumed to be Arthur Morgan and his compatriot. Morgan was typically smooth, unflinching in the face of imminent threat. The younger man was much less seasoned. His finger rested on the hammer far too quick for coincidence.

She had asked for a light for her cigarette and then moved away from the suspects who were resting on the boardwalk. Breezing through the swinging wooden doors of the post office, she made her way to a triad of her men, standing near the other side of the office. They were laughing and smoking but as she approached, their voices drew silent, and they stared insentiently.

"I believe I've found our man." She said. They looked shocked.

"We haven't been here 10 minutes!" The one shouted.

"Keep your voice down." She moved closer. "Follow the two men currently walking the road outside at a distance. Don't engage. Just pursue them. See where they go; I can't be entirely sure its him regardless. If it is, they might lead us to Dutch van der Linde, the head of Morgan's outfit. The outfit is armed and dangerous."

"Understood." The three men said curtly. They spun and went out the front doors in a flash. They crossed the road, looking for their horses. Ethel moved over to the front doors, and leaned against the post, peering out the lead glass window. Through the waves she could see both suspicious men look around surreptitiously. For a moment she doubted herself. It was highly unlikely that this would be Morgan and his man. He did fit the description and look the picture, though.

The young shifty male was talking something furious. He was gabbing on quickly to his friend, pointing left, right and centre. The other man seemed confused; they had mounted their horses and were moving slowly.

"… we were the Moses' of Rossville. We owned all the oil in New Austin and some of New Hannover…" Ethel had cracked the swinging window open, just enough to see through and hear some of their conversation as they moved further away. "… undercut at every price. It ruined my father, but then ole John Dee came and made daddy a deal he couldn't refuse. They bought him out…" By this point, the two men on horseback had trotted far enough away to be out of earshot; she knew she had her men.

"God's shining on me now, boys." She said. Arthur and his compatriot had moved far enough away that they were fading blips in the distance. On the other side of the cobbles, a few of the Standard gang were standing beside their horses, smoking and getting ready to mount. Ethel moved swiftly across the street as the train whistle began blowing loudly and it chugged out of the station piston blow by piston blow.

"I have them leaving the city right now." She said upon the approach.

"How? We just got here." the one said, butting his cigarette.

"Doesn't matter." She spat. "Get on those horses, and get to the edge of the city. Take the main road instead of this river front road. You'll save time and catch them."

"You sure this is them."

"God Almighty as my witness, I ought to shoot you. Get on the horses, and catch these two men, _alive_. I need a word with both of them. Black and white horses. Mr. Morgan appears to be riding an Arabian so be smart. He'll outrun you on the straights _and_ in the corners."

"We'll bring them to you. Where will you be?" A more seasoned Standard man said to Ethel.

"I'll follow you boys at a distance. Get moving."

As the gang began separating, Ethel looked across the street to find her Turkoman reigned and waiting for her. She walked briskly across the street, narrowly avoiding a patrolman on his horse heading westbound. Once she reached _Pocantico_, her horse, she ran her hand though his mane and reflected on the last minutes.

Suddenly, she jumped into the stirrups and headed up the main road, following the tramlines as she passed _The Bastille_, and other debauched locations in the city. She allowed the gang a good 500-yard berth as they galloped to gain distance. Once they were barely visible, Ethel clicked her tongue and Pocantico took off. She flew down the street, passing other carts and horses with ease. Fearful yelps were heard as she missed some pedestrians by a foot or two.

Eventually the city began thinning out, and the Standard men had disappeared a few times from view, but reappeared once she corrected her path.

A single gunshot rang out as she was heading down a side road moving towards the bridge. There was an open field, which gave a clear view of the bridge about a thousand yards away, and she could see a shootout had just begun.

"Damn these ignorant sunsabitches." She spat off her horse. Spurring Pocantico, he neighed loudly and they shot like a bullet from a long gun toward the commotion. The two suspects were now sitting on one horse alone. The young man on the back had himself fully turned around, a repeater in hand and was returning fire now. The young man's shot downed one of the horses. The rest moved around the horse and kept on. Ethel continued to spur Pocantico as she gained on the Standard men who were reeling from confusion and trying to get their bearings in chase.

From the rear of the gang, a loud whistle was now audible. 200 yards in front of Pocantico, a mustang had shot out from another connecting road and a patrol officer was waving his gun around in the air and viciously blowing his whistle.

"Woaw, woaw." Ethel pulled on the reigns and slowed up her horse. The man hadn't seen her but instead had his full attention on the chase ahead of him. He fired a shot into the air. "Back off now boys, do as you're told." She whispered, following at a distance.

They doubled down. Returning fire from close, the office ducked behind the mane of his horse. He shot back a few times as the gang was taking fire from the front. They were going down left, right, and centre.

"Lord, give me strength." She said, spurring Pocantico to catch up. She was now 500 yards behind.

The patrolman had suddenly turned around. He was yelling something fierce and had retreated from the fight. Without even looking a second time, he galloped towards Ethel, squeezing his arm, and continued back over the bridge.

She passed by a few of her men, lying motionless in the ditch or moaning loudly.

"Woaw, woaw." She stopped about 100 yards shy of the two men. They had now dismounted, the firing had ceased, and the older man was reaching into the pockets of the downed Standard men. Ethel guessed it was money he was after. She was resting just before a small grove, and moved towards the trees to maintain cover from their sight. The younger one was clutching his arm; he got winged. She was not close enough to hear their conversation, but the man appearing to be Arthur Morgan remounted to horse and began galloping away from the scene.

Ethel clicked her tongue and Pocantico began moving out from the shrubbery. She watched as the twosome moved down the dusty enclosed trail further and further from the city. Pocantico moved down the trail at a trot in the world's slowest pursuit. If they turned around for even a moment, she might get spotted. Extra care was taken to going the widest berth possible. After a few minutes of trail riding on the back roads, the white horse turned off down a side trail. Ethel slowed Pocantico, and pulled him into the brush, tying him to a nearby tree. She knew the road must have lead to some sort of hideout as the waterfront was just beyond the edge of the forest. She removed her Rolling Block rifle and clutched her side to ensure her Mauser pistol was still in its holster. With the rifle secured on her back, she snuck quietly through the underbrush.

* * *

Danny squealed loudly as they re-entered the encampment at the Shady Belle. A few of the van der Linde gang were set up around the camp fire; Dutch was leaning against a pillar on the veranda, smoking a cigar when he saw them approaching. Trouble was afoot.

"What happened?" He jumped from the veranda, running towards Harlow. Danny was slumped against Arthur, cringing in pain.

"We got held up. Some sort of private security…" Before Arthur had finished responding, Dutch cut in.

"Pinkerton's?"

"No, not Pinkertons. The boy seems to know who they are."

"Who are they, boy?" Dutch said quickly. "Are they after you? What have you brought upon us?"

"They ain't after me…" He hopped down. "They were after _us_" he emphasised.

"Danny, oh dear Lord!" Emelia yelped as she saw him. There was blood covering much of his arm now. He was still clenching his teeth tightly. "You're shot."

"Just barely…" He managed. Arthur interjected.

"He'll be alright. The bullet went clean through. Someone get a knife and burn the wound. Mary-Beth?" Arthur yelled.

"Yes?" She replied, looking up from a crochet circle she was finishing.

"Get some thread, and a small needle. Boys gonna need stitching."

"Of course." She put down her work and sifted through her wooden box of trinkets and sewing items. Danny sat down near Mary-Beth, and pulled up his arm. The bloodflow had slowed now, but was still present. Micah threw his knife at Mary-Beth's feet.

"Get 'er done quick. Don't want the man to bleed out."

"Arthur, what in the Sam Hill happened?"

"I have no idea Dutch." He removed his long gun. "We did the work, got paid, and made it all the way back to St. Denis. It all went sour after that."

"St. Denis?" Dutch walked with Arthur into the big house. "What were you boys doing in St. Denis? You were supposed to come straight back."

"It's a long trip, we needed supplies so we stopped for a while to catch our breath, we haven't slept in a day, and I am not in the mood for this interrogation."

"I'm not interrogating, son, I'm trying to figure out what happened!"

"Somehow, some way, these guys found us. Someone must have sent word or used some magic to send a message to this security company from Cleveland, the boy tells me, and they'd come down by the time we got back to Lemoyne. I don't know how, but they found us."

"Damn." Dutch said. "You sure these aren't Pinkerton's of some higher breed?"

"The boy seems sure they aren't. He said they were from Standard Oil."

"Standard Oil? Oh Lord, tell me you do not mean _thee_ _Standard Oil_?" Dutch slammed his fist against the wall.

"This is just what he's telling me. The Leland Development where Cornwall has his plant in the heartlands is owned by Standard Oil."

"They are protecting their investment." Dutch said, grabbing his coat off the wall, and wrapping it over his shoulders. "I'd never have sent you. It was foolhardy. I'm just trying to get a leg up with the Indians."

"For what? We don't need their help. They need ours." Arthur said.

"It doesn't matter, son. What's done is done. We're getting out of here tomorrow anyway. Let's keep our heads on straight, and stick to the plan. This plan will take us out of this God forsaken swamp and probably on to some new beautiful beach where you will thank me for it, my friend."

Dutch charged through the front doors.

"Everyone, I have an announcement."

The van der Linde crew turned to face their leader who was leaning on the pillar closest to their campfire on the veranda.

"I need everyone to start packing their things, tonight. We've had some unexpected turns of events that make our exit imminent, and if we need to move out at a moments notice, we need to be able to move out. Lenny, Obadiah, and John, you boys ready the carts. Mary-Beth, Mrs. Grimshaw and my dear Molly, please pack up the food stores. Emelia, you take care of your brother. We need that arm to heal up as much as it can. Put it in a sling if need be. Arthur, Micah, Hosea, clean out the house. I'm going to stay at the front gate. Whistle if you need me."

With that, Dutch grabbed a repeater and began making his way towards the dilapidating bricks of the front gates.

"Never been on clean up duty before." Micah complained. "If only you hadn't been played, eh Arthur?"

"Shut up." He replied. Each member of the crew moved towards their respective zones and began packing.

Danny was in an agony. The wound was much worse on the backside of his arm, and though Mary-Beth was a good crocheter, she wasn't a good surgeon. His wounds were bound but he could hardly move his left arm.

"It'll be okay." Emelia said. "I'm just happy you're safe."

"I'm surprised you aren't lecturing me." He smiled.

"The pain is enough of a lecture." She kissed his cheek. "Don't do it again."

"There it is."

* * *

Dutch was standing at the gate, leaning against the crumbled bricks, and was lighting his cigar once again. They helped calm his nerves and bring about a cool-headedness he needed in times like these. If they thought Leviticus Cornwall was trouble, they didn't know anything yet. He'd only run across the Standard a few times in his life, and every time was a harrowing ordeal. If there was one thing he'd learned about the company, was that it took every drop of oil more seriously than it did its people.

"Dutch van der Linde?" A voice rang out from the darkened wood.

Immediately he reached for his gun, holding it to his shoulder, and pointing it in the direction of the woods. He didn't reply.

"You are Dutch van der Linde, am I right?" the voice said again. It was feminine. Not overly feminine, like the high-pitched whine of a harlot, but it wasn't as low as Mrs. Adler's.

Dutch viciously searched the treeline for a figure. He could not spot anyone. From the underbrush, a figure emerged. It was a woman, quite tall, maybe an two or three inches shorter than Dutch.

"Who are you?" He said menacingly, pointing the gun at her.

"Don't insult me, Mr. van der Linde. I'm not here to kill you." She moved towards him, and he shook the gun at her.

"How do I know that?" He replied.

"Because if I was here to kill you, you'd be dead." She marched to within 15 feet now. Dutch got a much better view. He could see she was beautiful, in the most striking way. Her blonde hair was braided and ran down her right shoulder. She was wearing a long brown shotgun coat and had a large Estate hat of the same mud brown colour but in a soft felt. She had a pistol slung on a black belt with a bright gold clasp, and a long rifle hanging from her back. Her eyes were dead set on his, and her freckles became visible as she approached him within 5 feet. Soon, she was a handshake away.

"I ask again, who are you?" He said, not lowering the gun. It was nearly touching her heart but she didn't take a moment to look at it.

"You can call me Ms. Gold." She moved around the gun and stood beside Dutch. Taking in the view of the Shady Belle, she smiled. "What a shithole." Dutch lowered the gun as he sensed she was who she claimed to be.

"It's our shithole." He said, unwavering.

"You must have cleaned out the Raiders then." She said.

"You must be from around here."

"Not so. I just know a lot of things."

"Oh really?" Dutch said, turning to stand beside her.

"I know that Arthur Morgan works for your outfit." She pulled a cigarette from her breast pocket, placing it between her lips. Dutch dug into his pocket, striking a match, and holding it up to the woman's mouth.

"Thank you." She said, inhaling, and exhaling a plume of greyish smoke.

"So what if he does?" Dutch said, putting his cigar between his lips and smoking.

"I give everyone I meet two chances, you understand." She pulled the cigarette from her mouth between her index and middle finger. "The first, I walk up to them like equals. I give them a chance to explain themselves, give testimony to the truth. If they don't comply, I come down with a hellfire they haven't seen before and never do again."

Dutch tightened the grip on his gun. He looked at her, but said nothing.

"I don't care at all, about your degenerate group of reprobates. You can continue your lives, living in the swamp, or wherever life leads you. My employer has hired me for one job. We want our money back. Mr. Morgan, and whomever the boy is following in his footsteps, owe my employer a great debt. How they pay that debt is none of my concern. That they pay this debt, is of my greatest concern. Do you understand?"

"Who is your employer?"

"Standard Oil." She said, inhaling once again on the cigarette. "Maybe you've heard of them."

"How much is this debt?" Dutch asked.

"Well, taking into account the factory they destroyed, along with the two derricks on the property that have to be rebuilt, and the lost wages for the men, the lost lives on the property, and the lost revenue for the Standard, its sitting just around $150 000."

Dutch smiled and laughed. He slung the gun around his back, and held his gut as he continued to chortle.

"Lady, if you think we have anywhere near that kind of money, you must drinking something much stronger than I am."

"I know you don't." She said coolly, smoking once again. "But you can get that kind of money. As I said, I don't care how you settle the debt. I care that it is settled, and in a reasonable amount of time."

"What's reasonable to you?" He smiled.

"Two months. I'd say." She said, stamping the cigarette into the peat.

"You expect us to bring you $150 000 in two months?"

"I do." She smiled, tapping his cheek with her open palm. "And if you don't, there is no place you can hide. Nowhere you can run. No nook or cranny in a wall in some backwoods cabin in the middle of nowhere of this God forsaken country that I won't find you. I will lay waste to everyone you hold dear."

She turned and began walking away.

"I'm no masochist though. I do it cleanly. No undue suffering. Just a bullet through the skull."

Dutch raised his gun, pointing it at her.

"What say I end this right now?" He pulled back the hammer. She stopped, and turned back around, walking into the barrel of his gun.

"You have a choice to make, Mr. van der Linde. I told you how I approach these things. There have been men who commit to the first option. They treat me as an equal. The make their restitution. They are given a pat on the back, and a firm handshake goodbye."

She moved passed the gun and was now inches away from his face.

"Then there are the men who take the second option. These men are no longer with us. You can take the second option if you like, but the Standard is a machine, you see. If I am gone, there will simply be another. And another. And another, and another and another and another. It will never end for you. Just a constant flow of bullets you have to dodge, of always looking over your shoulder, of sleepless nights wondering when I'll be coming for you; When I'll find you, and how long it will take to die. Needlessly too, may I point out." She backed away slowly, turned and began walking up the path.

"Imagine the outrage when everyone in your camp realizes you're covering for two men who deserve their damnation. Imagine their faces as they die in front of you, without cause at all. All because of your arrogance and foolishness, Mr. van der Linde. I advise you to take the first option."

She paused on the dirt road and turned, "Oh, and don't think about trying to skip town now, you hear? We will find you. And the next step will be worst than the last."


End file.
